


Of Gods and Death

by SaintEpithet



Series: Sons of Fire - Beric & Thoros Oneshots [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BrOTP Thoros & Beric, Bromance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, leaning on the 4th wall, not especially sorry, something between romance and bromance as far as I'm concerned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintEpithet/pseuds/SaintEpithet
Summary: Thoros took the flask and a swift swig. "Of course there's rumors about us. Never really gets old, does it? The Brotherhood without Banners has slain King Joffrey when he took a shit in the woods! The Brotherhood took King's Landing and wrote obscenities on the walls of the Sept of Baelor! The Brotherhood stole swords from the Iron Throne and set them on fire! The Brotherhood executed...""About us," Beric sharply interrupted. "About you. About me. Not the Brotherhood. Just us."





	Of Gods and Death

The moon stood high outside the Hollow Hill. Light rain was falling and a storm was brewing above the trees. Except for the night guards outside, hidden near the cave's entrance, the Brotherhood without Banners was sleeping. Only Beric and Thoros sat by the fire, sharing a drink, though the split was somewhat skewed in Thoros' favor. The plans had been made. Now, all there was left to do was finish the wine and get some rest for the day ahead.

"I heard a rumor recently," Beric said and took the flask Thoros handed him.

"That's the nature of rumors." Thoros shrugged, not looking particularly interested. "Someone's got to hear them, or they would be just thoughts."

Beric regarded Thoros from the side and drank, then offered the flask back. "You don't want to know what I heard?" he asked. "It was a rumor about us."

Thoros took the flask and a swift swig. "Of course there's rumors about us. Never really gets old, does it? The Brotherhood without Banners has slain King Joffrey when he took a shit in the woods! The Brotherhood took King's Landing and wrote obscenities on the walls of the Sept of Baelor! The Brotherhood stole swords from the Iron Throne and set them on fire! The Brotherhood executed..."

"About us," Beric sharply interrupted. "About you. About me. Not the Brotherhood. Just us."

Thoros shrugged and laughed. "Did you expect we'd go around helping the small folks without them spinning tales about their heroes?"

Beric's eye narrowed. "It's not the small folks spinning heroic tales. It's people saying that we share a bed, you and I."

After another swig from the flask, Thoros slowly looked around in the cave. "As if we had beds."

Beric sighed. Usually, he was glad to have Thoros' humor to brighten the darkness, but right now, he wished his priest could be serious, just once. "You know my meaning," he said and then quickly corrected himself: " _Their_ meaning."

Thoros gave him the flask, but Beric didn't drink and waited for an answer. It took a moment, then Thoros' eyes met his and noticed the lingering glance. "What? We do share the cave floor. They are not wrong."

"They mean we sleep together," Beric tried again.

"And we do. Except when one has to go outside to take a leak." Thoros eyed the flask, but Beric held onto it, almost cradling it in his arms to suggest he'd only return it if he got a satisfying answer.

"What do you want me to say?" Thoros shrugged. "We can take turns sleeping if it bothers you."

 

Defeated, Beric gave him the flask. "It does not," he sighed. "It is not what those rumors are about. People are whispering that we..." He broke off, looking for words Thoros couldn't possibly misunderstand or bend into a meaning of his choice. "That we are lovers."

Thoros chuckled, downed the last of the wine and reached to his belt, to the other flask. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing," he said. "I do love you. Now don't tell me that feeling isn't mutal. I know you'd be lying. A man who never falls more than two steps behind me sure doesn't hate me."

Beric sighed again and nodded to the flask. Thoros, still amused, threw it to him and Beric took more than one long swig from it before throwing it back. "Might be because you bring me back from the dead," he said and sounded entirely unconvinced by his own words.

"See? You're a bad liar. You followed me like a puppy even before you died. And _you_ were the sole commander then." Thoros laughed and drank. How could a man who saw double more often than not see so easily through him, Beric wondered.

 

"The feeling is mutual," he admitted after a brief silence. That wasn't a lie and yet it didn't come out as confident and casual as Thoros had sounded. From him, it was a statement, a matter of fact, not a confession. "I doubt the rumor carries the same meaning though," he added and gave Thoros a knowing glance, hoping the knowledge would finally cross over to him.

It didn't. Thoros just shrugged and poked the fire with a stick. "And how would it? 'People' don't have a priest who brings them back. They can't know the bond between two men tied together by the Lord of Light."

"They think we're like Renly Baratheon and his Knight of Flowers," Beric blurted out. He had run out of subtle words and Thoros just had to get the point now.

"Huh." Thoros raised his eyebrows, looking surprised, but not shocked at all. "Now that's an interesting rumor," he said after a while. "Can't say I heard that one before."

Beric waited, but Thoros seemed to have said all he had to say and just drank from the flask as if nothing had happened. When he noticed Beric's glance pierce him once more, all he did was offer the flask to him.

Beric took it and nodded, trying to encourage Thoros to give him a real answer. "Is that all you have to say about it?" he asked.

 

Thoros shrugged. "I guess we could try it," he finally said and Beric just stared at him.

"Try what?" he slowly asked after a moment, not believing Thoros was serious about this. He had to be joking. Why didn't he sound like he was joking? He almost always did. Why not now?

"What the king's brother and his knight did," Thoros gave back and he still didn't sound like he was joking.

"You know what they were said to do, right?" Beric carefully inquired. Thoros was drunk most of his waking hours. It was entirely possible he hadn't heard a thing about Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell.

"Not in detail," Thoros promptly replied. "But that's what the Lord has given men imagination for." He chuckled at Beric's blank expression, caught between disbelief and hope that his priest had no clue what he was talking about. "I imagine they were rolling around in their fancy royal bed sheets together, their fancy robes scattered all around them on the floor, fighting over who would be the sword or sheath that night." He thought for a moment, then he added: "Probably rubbed up with fancy lavender oil all the while, too."

Beric clutched the flask with both hands and drank, never taking his eye of Thoros for even a second. He couldn't miss the moment when he'd break out in laughter and tell him this was all a joke.

"You've always looked good in your armor, my lightning lord," Thoros said instead. There was a smirk on his lips and the hint of a joke in his voice. He slowly looked up and down on Beric, who sat there, flask still on his lips, like a statue frozen right next to the warmth of the fire. "Well, more so before..." Thoros gestured to his eye and throat, but quickly put his hands back down. "Still better than either Clegane." He reached out with one hand, demanding his flask back.

Beric slowly let the flask sink from his lips and handed it back even slower. "You have thought entirely too much about this to not have had a clue what I meant when I brought this rumor up," he said. Thoros answered the challenge with a blithe smile and a shrug and took a swig from the flask.

 

"You never thought about it?" he asked, much too jovial for Beric's taste. "We spend a lot time out in the woods. Far from taverns and brothels and fair maidens." Now Beric was almost certain Thoros was teasing him. Almost. "Didn't think it was practical though," he continued after another swig of wine, now sounding much too serious. He had given this entirely too much thought indeed. "No brothels, no fancy oils, after all," Thoros added. "And I can hardly bend you over and go in dry."

Beric almost coughed up the wine when he heard that and he went back to stare at Thoros in disbelief. His priest had always had a rather unpriestly mouth, but he hadn't expected to be the subject of the unpriestly things Thoros said, ever.

"Not implying you're as fragile as a fair maiden." Thoros leaned closer and put the flask back in Beric's hand. "But it wouldn't be fun for either of us." Beric stared at him for some longer, then slowly lowered his gaze to the flask, looking at it like he saw it for the first time and had no idea how it had ended up in his hand.

"I doubt it would," he said, still in disbelief he was even having this conversation.

"No need to try it then." Thoros smirked and put his hand on Beric's shoulder. "Some things are just fun to think about and a real let down if you try them. Like slipping in some tongue when I bring you back. Seemed a good idea at first, but I shouldn't make such calls when I'm drunk." Beric coughed into the flask and his face went as pale as a ghost, even paler than death itself. "You did what?!" he burst out.

 

"Just joking."

 

Thoros put a kiss on Beric's forehead, above his good eye, then he got up. Slowly, Beric turned his head to look up to him and if looks could kill, Thoros would have needed a resurrection of his own right now. Thoros withstood the near lethal gaze with a wry smile until Beric sighed, in defeat and in relief. He took the hand Thoros offered to pull him up.

"Aye, you better be," he said. "Death tastes bitter. It would only soil your sweet wine." He went to the tunnel leading deeper into the Hollow Hill, to the sleeping quarters in a smaller cave. "We better get some rest now if we want to ride with dawn."

Thoros nodded and followed him. "Glad you don't mind sharing your fancy cave floor with me, despite those rumors," he said, the chuckle back in his voice. Beric shot him a reproachful glance, not without the hint of a smile. "Don't mind 'sleeping with me', after all?" Thoros' chuckle grew into a smirk once more. But this time, he didn't catch Beric off guard. "Aye, I don't," he gave back. "Caves are cold and you are not." He stopped and turned to Thoros. "You'll sleep by my side, as you always have. But if I ever come back from death and taste wine on my lips, you better find a new fancy cave floor." Thoros laughed and slightly pushed Beric away, into the tunnel. "No cave floor would be fancy without my lord. That's a risk not even I would take."

**Author's Note:**

> This is the culmination of my frustration with surprise medieval smut: I try to take it with humor.


End file.
